


Down to the Molecules

by thejabberwock



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol as a Coping Mechanism, Angel Biology, Angst, Arguing, Awkward Sex, Bad Sex, Barebacking, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Blowjobs, Dean Has Abandonment Issues, Declarations Of Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, First Time, Hand Jobs, M/M, Making Up, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Protective Castiel, Protective Dean Winchester, Relationship Negotiation, Sam Can't Pick a Side, Sexuality, Tactile Dean Winchester, angel sexuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-17 04:57:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14181195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thejabberwock/pseuds/thejabberwock
Summary: Now that they’ve finally sorted their shit, Dean can’t wait to get Cas into bed. Turns out, Cas isn’tquiteso enthusiastic.





	Down to the Molecules

 ~destiel~  


Kissing Cas is nothing like Dean expected. He’s vocal and eager, no hesitation at all. Dean likes it.  Likes the way Cas is tugging at him, hands pushing beneath his shirt to smooth over bare skin. An impatient hum, which Dean takes to mean he’s ready for more.  

Dean’s been ready for years. 

“You wanna?” he asks, letting his hand drift toward Cas’ belt.

Cas’ voice is warmth and promise as he answers, “Yes, Dean. Please.” 

Dean grins. "Since you asked so nicely."  He works the buckle open while he backs them toward the bed.  Cas doesn’t let him go, keeps kissing him even as they tumble to the mattress.

It’s taken years to get here, years of misunderstandings and regrets. But none of that matters anymore. They’re here now, finally on the same page. And Dean wants to tell Cas he loves him, but he’s never been good with words. Not with declarations or flowery speeches. Sex, he’s good at. He can tell him like this, with his hands and his lips and Cas will understand.

Dean hopes he’ll understand.

So he takes his time, maps each bit of Cas’ skin as it’s revealed, obliges when Cas follows suit. When it’s just skin on skin, and Cas’ soft sighs as Dean kisses a trail down his chest, over his stomach. His cock is half hard and it makes Dean’s mouth water.

Cas has only had sex once, as far as Dean knows, so he checks, just to be sure, “You good?”

“Of course, Dean.”

Dean kisses Cas’ stomach, continues on his downward path and presses his nose to the dark curls, darts his tongue out to taste. Just a slow swipe of his tongue over the head of Cas’ cock. It jerks, and Dean smiles; brushes his knuckles down its length, cups Cas’ balls in his palm and looks up, wanting to see Cas’ face.

Cas smiles at him, all the encouragement Dean needs before he sets to work. Takes his time with this too, tongue swirling over the head before he takes Cas all the way in.

“I don’t understand the point of this,” Cas says just as Dean starts sucking his dick in earnest.  As soon as the words are out, Dean freezes.

“Is it supposed to feel so strange?” Cas asks, gaze moving between Dean’s face and his own cock. Dean pulls away.

“Strange?” he echoes hoarsely.  “I don’t… Sorry,” he says, stumbling over it as he slides back.  “I thought… sorry.”

Cas frowns, reaches out to catch his shoulder and Dean stills again. 

“You’re upset.” Cas is frowning. 

“No,” Dean says quickly. “I’m not. It’s fine. I should have asked–”

“You did ask,” Cas reminds him.  “I just didn’t realise I wouldn’t enjoy it.” 

“Okay.” Dean swallows through the sudden heat in his throat. His dick is flaccid, his hopes along with it.  “Okay, that’s okay. We can do something else. Uh… if you want, or we can just watch tv or something, that’s fine. Anything you want is good. Just let me… here, your pants, you should probably–”

“ _Dean_.” 

Cas’ fingers grip him tighter and Dean stops, already halfway off the bed, with Cas’ pants crumpled in his fist. Cas’ hand feels too hot where he’s holding him and Dean has to still the urge to shake him off.  

“We don’t need to stop,” Cas says, and Dean isn’t sure if he’s relieved or not. “If you’d like an orgasm.” 

“Um, no, that’s. That’s okay, Cas, I’m good.” Dean can feel his face heating. He’s not embarrassed, he’s not. He’s not offended. It’s Cas and Cas doesn’t understand how insulting that is. He pushes the crawling humiliation down and tries a smile. “Sam is probably still awake if you want to go watch that movie with him. We can make him start it over.” 

He tosses Cas’ pants over, not meeting his eyes as he fumbles around for the jeans Cas had stripped off of him. Before he can find his shirt, Cas says his name again, so tentative that Dean finds himself turning around.  

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Cas says, sounding so unhappy that it makes Dean feel like an ass. “I’m sorry.” 

He shakes his head. “I should have realised you weren’t enjoying it.” 

Cas’ head tilts as he studies Dean’s face. “Were  _you_  enjoying it?” 

“Uh, well…” Dean licks his lips, and has no idea the right way to answer that. Settles on, “Doesn’t matter. If it doesn’t feel good for you, it doesn’t matter…” 

“I'm not sure any sex with you will feel good.” 

Dean stares at him, the hurt and humiliation so sharp it’s hard to breathe. “Okay,” he says, his voice entirely too high. “Well, okay, I’m glad you told me. So, now we can just… Friends then, same as before. That’s fine, I didn’t even really want to do the whole boyfriends thing anyway, so, good, great.” He doesn’t even know what the fuck he’s saying. But it doesn’t matter. He just wants to get out of his room, and as far away from Cas as possible. 

“Dean–” Cas touches his arm, but he lurches away, grabs his shirt and boots from the floor and gets the hell out. 

He bumps into Sam in the hallway—literally.

“Whoa,” Sam huffs as he stumbles, spilling whatever’s in his cup down the front of his shirt. “Shit.”

“Sorry,” Dean mutters as he steadies his brother, moves him out of the way in the same movement and keeps going.

“Dean?” Sam calls after him, sounding more confused than concerned. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Sammy, everything’s great,” Dean throws over his shoulder, not slowing. He rounds the corner before Sam can say anything else.

He makes it to the garage in record time and then drives to the closest bar and proceeds to get drunk, satisfied in his conviction that neither Sam nor Cas would approve. But they’re not here, Sam because his body is a temple or whatever and early to bed, early to rise his mantra. And Cas is probably sleeping, grateful to have Dean’s hands as far away from him as possible.

What the hell was that even about? Dean knows Cas likes sex. Eye opening, or whatever he’d called it after that reaper. Smiling and pleased with himself even though she stabbed him. And yet, Stabby Mcstabberson was a better lay than him.

Or maybe Cas only wants to fuck women, which sure, Dean can’t blame him for that. But he might have mentioned it before Dean started sucking his dick. That might have been helpful.

Damn it, just when it seemed things were going to go right for once, they blew up in Dean’s face. Not literally, because any blowing Dean does is not going to involve Cas.

Dean frowns down at his empty glass. He sets it down on the bar and aims his best smile at the bartender—Gina is her name. She smiles back, like she’s been doing since he got here, flirting with him because everyone flirts with him. Well, not everyone, but damn it, he’s Dean fucking Winchester and he knows how to make his bed partners happy.

So fuck Cas and his whatever the hell his problem is. The bartender is hot, her tits brushing Dean’s arm as she leans in. And that’s just what he needs, an easy fuck; a good time had by  _all_. Cas doesn’t want him, so why the hell not?

She leans in closer and Dean turns his head to catch her low words.

\--

He stumbles back into the bunker just before sunrise, hungover and miserable, and when he walks into the kitchen to find Sam glaring at him over his coffee, he wants to walk straight back out again.  “Whatever you’re about to say,” Dean warns gruffly, “don’t.” 

Sam’s incredulous face is pretty impressive, but Dean ignores him to pour himself a cup of coffee.

“How could you do this to him?” Sam asks, sounding so deeply disappointed that it makes Dean cringe. “After everything you two have been through, you dump him, and then, what? Find some chick to screw, just like that?” 

Dean scowls. “Seriously?”

Of course Sam thinks he's a dick, and this is all his fault. His brother just raises his eyebrows. The silent judgement makes the anger curl tight in Dean’s chest.  He sets his mug down on the counter with a clatter and turns away.  Sam’s probably still glaring at him as he walks out the door. The rest of the bunker is quiet as he makes his way toward his room. He has no idea what Cas told him Sam, or what Sam heard either, but he doesn’t really care. 

Things will just go back to how they were before, more or less. Dean can deal with his hurt feelings. It’s not like he really expected anything different. He’s not surprised Cas doesn’t want him. This is just how things shake out when he tries to take care of people. 

And the hollow feeling of loss, it’ll go away eventually. It’s not the first time he’s lost Cas and he hasn’t really lost him.  He’s still in the bunker, bitching about him to Sam. It could be a lot worse. 

With that thought buoying him, Dean takes a shower, detouring first to his room—Cas’ door is firmly shut. He takes a long shower, ignoring his dick and just lets the hot water work at his aching muscles. By the time he gets out, dressed in his softest flannel pants and a t-shirt, he feels less like he wants to hurl.

Which is progress, he thinks. But not enough to keep his insides from lurching when he approaches Cas’ door, open this time. He can’t really help the quick glance inside. He pauses just past and backtracks a step.  Cas is putting clothes into one of Sam’s duffel bags.  

Dean watches him, trying to ignore the spiking worry. But Cas can’t be leaving–not permanently–not when he’s the one who didn’t want Dean. Dean didn’t ask him to go. Why the hell would he be leaving?

Dean swallows past the panic and clears his throat, attempting an easy tone as he asks, “You going somewhere?” 

Cas turns to look at him, obviously startled by the intrusion. But he returns his attention back to his packing as he answers quietly, “I thought I might visit Claire. Sam said I could take one of the cars.” Another quick glance. “If you don’t mind.” 

Dean swallows, pushes his hands deep into his pockets. “Already told you, Cas, this is your home.” How much clearer can he possibly make it that Cas is part of the family? Even if Cas doesn’t want him, that doesn’t change. 

Cas turns to face him. “I’m very sorry I made you feel obligated to… attempt a romantic relationship with me.”

Dean stares at him. “What?“

“I should have realised there was a reason it took you so long to recognize how I felt.” 

“Cas,” Dean say, even more confused. “That’s not–”

“If I had known my lack of enjoyment of our sexual activities would be so distressing to you, I would never have pursued it.”

Dean looks away as things clear up just as quickly as they were muddled. The last thing he wants to do is have this conversation, but he can’t let Cas walk out of here thinking this is his fault. It’s easy to forget sometimes, but he’s not human and so he doesn’t know that sometimes, sexually, humans just aren’t compatible. 

“It’s not your fault,” he says, finding it impossible to look directly at Cas’ face so he studies his collar instead, and the faded t-shirt that he stole from Dean’s pile of clean laundry just last night. “Just because you, uh, care about me, it doesn’t necessarily mean you’re attracted to me. It doesn’t always work that way. Sometimes people are just better as friends. It’s fine, man.” 

It’s not fine. 

“If you want to visit Claire,” he goes on anyway, “I get that. But don’t leave because of this. We’re fine.” 

“You’re not fine.” 

Dean looks up, to find Cas frowning at him. 

“You’re upset that I no longer function as a human does.” 

“What?” Just when Dean thought he understood this twisted conversation… “What do you mean you no longer function…?” His glance down at Cas’ crotch is involuntary. He looks up quickly and narrows his eyes. He feels like he’s been hit over the head by a particularly vicious vamp. “You mean… What the hell do you mean?” 

“Junkless. I believe that’s the word you used.” 

Feeling like a jerk for things he’s said in the past is not a new feeling, but Dean grimaces anyway.  “But you’re not,” he says. “You had sex with that reaper.” 

Cas’ head tilts as he frowns. “I was human then.” 

“So?” Then Dean catches up. And the wind is knocked right out of him all over again. “Oh. Oh! So, you can’t now? Because you’re an angel?”

“I can,” Cas corrects. “But it doesn’t feel the same. It feels…” 

“Strange,” Dean echoes his earlier complaint.  “Okay.” As much as Dean doesn’t want to give Cas any ideas, he rubs a hand over his chin and takes a breath. “The reaper had a female form, so maybe it’s just…” 

Cas shakes his head. “Hannah kissed me while were working together. And she was naked for a time, and I wasn’t at all interested in her body. It’s not a gender issue.” 

The irrational spike of jealousy is pointless and unhelpful.  Dean clamps down on the urge to demand what the hell Cas thinks he’s doing kissing other people–especially Hannah–and nods in a reasonable show of disinterest. “Okay, well. Maybe you just need a bit of practice.” 

“And if I simply don’t function the way most humans do?”  

Dean doesn’t have an answer.  He’s never really considered that Cas might not want sex. Not after seeing him so self-satisfied after announcing he was no longer a virgin.

Cas turns away, reaching for the clothes on the bed, but he’s not putting them into the duffel anymore. 

“Look, Cas,” Dean falters, still with no idea how to proceed here.  How the hell do you have a relationship with someone who doesn’t want sex? Not that Dean has had many relationships, not that he was any good at either of them, but even he knows being sexually compatable is kind of important. “We can… figure it out, okay? Try something else, or–”

“There’s no need,” Cas tells him quietly, and Dean can see the strain in his knuckles as he grips one of the shirts. “The experiment was clearly a failure.” 

The anger comes back just as swiftly. “That’s what this was? You were experimenting to see if you liked sex? And now that you know you don’t, you’re done with me?" 

“Done with you?” Cas echoes, anger starting to seep into his words as well although Dean doesn’t see how he has any right.  “It was your experiment, not mine. You said you never wanted to  _do the whole boyfriends thing_ ,” he echoes Dean’s earlier words caustically. 

Dean deflates and god, what a dick he is. “All right, wait, Cas. I didn’t mean that. I was upset.” Humiliated, he can’t quite say. 

Cas is squinting at him, but Dean has no idea if he’s angry or suspicious. “Because you thought it was a judgment on your skill.” 

Dean can’t help smiling. There’s his Cas, blunt as always.  “It’s never fun to hear the other guy say they’re not enjoying the blowjob.” 

“I’m sorry,” Cas says again. “I shouldn’t have told you it felt strange.” 

“That’s not.” Dean shakes his head, no more sure-footed. “I don’t want to do anything you don’t like. If it feels strange to you… that’s not something I’m gonna wanna do.” He takes a tentative step forward because Cas looks stricken again. “We’ll figure it out,” he says softly. In reality he has no idea how they’re supposed to work out something like this. But it doesn’t seem to matter to the part of him that just wants to be near Cas. 

He stops mid-reach, not sure he’s allowed. Not sure if Cas wants him to even if he is. 

“We can try again,” Cas says quietly, oblivious to Dean’s conflict even as he studies his face. “I’d like to try again.” 

“Cas…” 

“Unless you were satisfied with whoever you chose as my substitute?” 

“Your substitute?” 

“You were gone all night,” Cas says, as though Dean needs the reminder. 

“Not finding a substitute for you, geez. Who even talks like that?” Angels who are jealous, it seems. Even if they don’t realise it.  

“If that’s what you need,” Cas says reasonably.  So, maybe he’s not jealous.  

“I wasn’t out having sex,” Dean tells him, with just a twinge of guilt for having thought about it.  “I got drunk and slept it off in the impala.” He frowns as he remembers Sam’s accusation in the kitchen. “Did Sam tell you that’s what I was doing?” Cas doesn’t answer but Dean knows it’s true anyway and if he didn’t need to hash this out with Cas, he would go punch his brother in the nose. “I don’t want a substitute, okay?”

“You want to try again with me?” 

“Not really,” Dean answers with a rueful smile and then wishes he hadn’t when Cas’ face falls. 

“I don’t understand.” He sits heavily on the bed, eyes weary as he looks up at Dean. “What  _do_  you want?” 

“I don’t know, man.” He feels helpless; useless in the face of Cas’ clear misery. It’s been so fucking long since he’s been the reason for that expression.  Moving carefully, Dean sits beside him, making sure not to touch. Which is more difficult than maybe it should be. He lets his hands hang between his knees, curls his fingers together, and finally when Cas doesn’t say anything, “What do you want me to do?” 

“Dean,” Cas’ voice has that growl of annoyance that usually makes Dean want to kiss him.  Not this time. He looks away, feeling stupid and inadequate. “I told you what I want. But if you’re uncomfortable…” 

“I’m not.” He’s a goddamn liar is what he is. “I don’t want  _you_  to be uncomfortable.” 

“I’m not human, Dean. It felt strange, but I wasn’t uncomfortable. I’m not embarrassed. And I'm not embarrassed that it wasn't strange for you.” 

This is the most bizarre conversation Dean has ever had, and considering their lives, that is really saying something. "Okay? I’m not sure what you want here, Cas.” 

“I don’t want to spend another night alone in this room.” 

Dean stares at him, surprised by that although he’s not sure why.  Less than twenty-four hours ago he’d been prepared to spend the rest of his life trying to make Cas happy.  Hell, he was happy himself. After years of dancing around their feelings, everything was out in the open. 

And now Cas is watching him with uncertain eyes and Dean knows he’ll do anything to take that away. “Okay,” he says quietly and leans in.  Cas meets him halfway and it’s just like the first time, no hesitation, both of them on board. But then Dean thought that’s how the sex would go too. 

He has no idea what he’s supposed to do here. So he lets Cas lead the way, stays where he is, ass firmly planted on the bed until Cas slides over and pushes him down.  

He has to still his hands from grabbing at Cas’ ass, which is what he did the last time Cas straddled him like this.  His body still likes the weight of him, their dicks as close as they are.  But there’s an odd sort of panic as Dean’s thickens in his jeans.  If Cas doesn’t like blowjobs, does that mean all touching is off limits? Even the involuntary kind?

He twists his hips, trying to keep contact to a minimum, but it’s awkward and kind of impossible with Cas pressing against him.  

“Dean?” Cas pulls back, just a little. His lips are swollen, his hair a mess and Dean realizes he’s been running his fingers through it. He uncurls his fingers a little, and hopes Cas didn’t mind the manhandling. “Are you uncomfortable?” Cas asks, concerned. “Am I too heavy?” 

“What? No, no you’re fine, Cas.” But he’s holding his body stiffly and Cas isn’t an idiot.  "I wasn’t sure if you wanted…” He makes a vague gesture at his crotch, and decides this is most awkward sexual encounter he’s ever had.  

Cas amusement is unexpected. “I’m not afraid of your penis, Dean.” 

“Uh… okay? Right, yeah, sorry.” 

As though he wants to prove his point, Cas sits up and asks, “May I?” 

“Sure, Cas, yeah, whatever you want.” He tries not to hold his breath, but it’s a near thing. He watches Cas’ face, the concentration as he pulls Dean’s dick free. His expression is clinical, none of the heat that usually happens when someone is feeling him up. 

He should have noticed it last night. If he hadn’t been so caught up in his own pleasure, he might have. God, what a selfish asshole he is. 

He holds himself rigid as Cas starts sucking him, no build up, no teasing; just straight to it.

“Do you like that?” Cas asks after a few mintues, anxious where he wasn’t before and it doesn’t help Dean’s unease. But he smiles and reaches to cup the back of Cas’ head. 

“Yeah,” he says, hoping he sounds encouraging. “Course I do.” It feels good, of course it does, a warm mouth around his dick and careful hands cupping his balls. It’s always going to, even if a part of Dean wants to curl away from Cas’ earnest attempt to make him happy. If he can’t do the same for Cas, what the hell is he good for? “Feels great,” he murmurs and he’s only lying a little. But it’s worth it to watch the smile return to Cas’ eyes. Dean strokes his hair and lets his head fall back, lets Cas do what he so clearly wants to do. 

His chest aches, and he wants to bring Cas up and just hold him. Which is not his usual line of thought during a blowjob. He’s turning into some kind of fucking sap. Except he knows he’s not. He likes cuddling, although he’ll be damned if he ever admits it.

But he’s being too obvious about his discomfort, or maybe Cas just knows him better than he thinks because Cas pulls off and says, “You want something else.”

Dean hesitates. “I want to kiss you,” he tries to explain everything he’s feeling with that simple statement. Cas smiles, one of his rare, wide smiles.

“I enjoy kissing you,” he says as he moves up the bed. And that makes Dean smile too. The kissing, that’s good.

“Would you like to fuck me?” Cas asks and that takes all the pleasure out of the easy kisses.

There’s no way in hell Dean’s going to fuck someone who doesn’t want to be fucked. “I, uh,” he tries to swallow down the warble, “I’m not sure you’ll like it.”

“I could fuck you.”

Dean’s beginning to think he’s actually in a nightmare. It’s all just a dream, and he never actually offered Cas a home or a kiss; or his fucking body. “Um, you’re not hard. Your erection…”

“I can be,” Cas tells him. He reaches down and starts stroking himself, and that’s… it should be hot but knowing he’s not allowed to touch, it just makes Dean feel like an asshole all over again.

“If you want,” Dean tells him because what else is he supposed to say? “Or we can do it like this. An orgasm’s an orgasm, right?” Not that Cas would know. Dean takes his own dick in hand and leans in to distract himself with more kisses. But Cas’ fingers curl around Dean’s.

“May I?”

“Oh. You want to? Sure, Cas, yeah, that’s great.” It’s not great. It’s awkward, especially when he has to mention that some sort of lubrication is necessary when he starts wincing. He’s about to suggest lube, but Cas offers him his palm.

“I’ve seen people use spit in the pornography you keep on your computer,” he says helpfully and Dean kind of wants to crawl under a rock and die there. He licks Cas’ palm instead, and the feeling is made no better.

But Cas seems to like touching him well enough. If the enthusiastic kisses are any sort of indication. Who the hell knows if they are.

Dean keeps his own hands well above Cas’ waist and lets him have at it. He hasn’t fumbled through sex like this since his first time, and at least then he knew his partner wanted it too.

His dick likes it anyway. Likes the careful way Cas is stroking, likes it even more when he gathers the pre-cum with his thumb. Dean doesn’t mean to, but his fingers tighten where they hold him and he thrusts up into his fist.

Cas pulls him closer, free hand sliding down to cup Dean’s ass and that’s—so much skin, all of it pressed against him and just like that, his nerve endings lighting up, he  _wants_.

But then he feels Cas’ dick, flaccid against his leg and Dean can feel his body tensing all over. He should tell Cas this isn’t necessary, that they can just kiss if that’s what he wants, whatever he wants. But it’s too late, heat is coiling in his gut, tightening his balls and it’s too late.

He gasps, pulling away from Cas’ mouth to press his face into his shoulder. He shudders as he comes.

Dean feels a bit lightheaded as he tries to catch his breath with his face smashed into Cas’ collarbone. But Cas is petting his back and he can’t find motivation to move. He can still feel Cas’ dick, along with the disquiet lodged in his chest.

If he’s not allowed to reciprocate, what is he supposed to do?

Tentatively, he kisses the warm skin beneath his lips, just like he used to do with Cassie and Lisa. There was never a lot of after with the random one-offs. Sometimes, if Dean was feeling particularly reluctant to go back to whatever rancid motel he and Sam were staying at.

Cas makes a soft noise, that same contented sound he made when Dean first kissed him. So Dean does it again, concentrates the kisses over his collarbone; in the dip between. Cas’ hand is in his hair, feels good enough that Dean could stay here all night if Cas would let him. Maybe not just like this, with his spunk drying between them, and Cas’ dick squashed…

He shifts just enough that their dicks aren’t so close.

“Was that okay?” Cas asks, voice muffled against Dean’s scalp and that’s…

Dean swallows through the heat in his throat. He soothes a thumb down Cas’ side, stops before he reaches his hip. “Cas… we don’t have to. Do this. I’m not upset, I promise, I—”

Cas lifts his head and Dean feels the loss like a knife through his rib cage. “Because you think I don’t want to do it? Or because you don’t want to?”

He’s frowning, studying Dean’s face.

“ _Do_  you want to?”

“Yes.” There’s nothing false about that statement, Dean can tell. Doesn’t make it any easier. “I enjoyed it.”

“You enjoyed it?” Dean says, incredulous. “How could you have enjoyed it? Just touching me and not getting anything out of it.”

“Just because I didn’t ejaculate, doesn’t mean I didn’t get anything out of it.”

“What?” Dean asks, half laughing. “What did you get out of it?”

“I like making you happy.”

Dean does laugh then because that’s just great, isn’t it? “And what about me, then?”

“I don’t understand. You enjoyed it enough to ejaculate.”

“It’s not about that.”

“Then what is it about? Dean,” Cas’ frustration finally seeps into his tone. “Tell me.”

“If I can’t… “ He sits up, too agitated to stay where he is. “I’ve never been any good at this. The sex, though, I’m good at that. At least I used to be to be and if I can’t do that for you, then...” He shakes his head and looks away.

“Then, what?” Cas asks quietly but that’s just it.

“Exactly, Cas. Then  _what?_  What the hell good am I to you?”

“Dean…” There are careful fingers against his shoulder blade and Dean has to stop himself from moving into it. “You and I share a bond—”

“I know—”

“A  _bond_ , which joined our souls when I touched you in hell. A bond that has nothing to do with sex.”

Dean knows that. He does. Intellectually, he knows.

“You make me happy, even without sex. You always have. And," Cas adds softly, "it makes me happy to give you what you need."

“What about what you need?” Dean asks, his voice hoarse as he turns to look at him. “What about that?”

“I am getting what I need,” Cas assures him. “I chose you. And not because I wanted to have sex with you.”

“I know that, Cas. It’s not just the sex. That’s not why I… Damn it, Cas. I can’t say these things to you.”

“What things?” Cas asks, but Dean suspects he isn’t as clueless as he sounds. Proves it when he adds, “That you need me? That we’re family? You said all of that without sex.”

“I know,” Dean says heavily. “This isn’t the same thing.”

“You’ll have to figure out how to tell me without sex, then,” Cas tells him. He’s so freaking reasonable about this. Probably because, to him, sex is just a weird human quirk. A needless complication.

“I don’t know how to do this, man,” he says to the floor. He just doesn’t. He doesn’t know how to separate it. He should be able to figure it out. Because he doesn’t just want Cas for sex. It’s never been like that.

“Would it be easier to remain as friends, as brothers?” Cas asks after what feels like forever. He’s guarding his words, which he’s not very good at. Never has been. “If that’s what you want, Dean—”

“That’s not what I want. Damn it, I’m trying to tell you I’m in love with you,” he says sharply as he turns to face him, “and you’re just sitting there calmly telling me we can be brothers. I don’t want to be your brother, Cas, but I don’t know how to do this.” His chest is heaving when he finishes. Cas looks calm as ever. He’s smiling. Dean just bared his freaking soul and Cas is just sitting there, smiling. “Why the hell are you smiling?”

“I think that’s a fairly normal reaction to hearing a declaration of love.”

Dean wants to make a face at the phrase but Cas’ happiness is catching.

Still smiling, Cas touches the tips of his first two fingers to Dean’s cheek, like he’s going to fill him with his grace. He strokes lightly and says, “I would have said once, that angels are incapable of love. Maybe we are, but I feel like I love you.”

“Cas,” Dean says gruffly, “you don’t have to…”

“I want to,” Cas tells him. “There  _are_  things I want. I want to sleep in your bed every night, and be allowed to fight beside you.”

“You already do that.”

“I want to continue to do it. I want you and Sam to train me to be a hunter. A good hunter. And I want you to let me experiment. I had sex  _once_. With a reaper, who later stabbed me.”

“Twice,” Dean mutters, gesturing between them. “Technically.”

Cas ignores him. “And I want you to let me stay even if sex always feels strange.”

Dean’s stomach drops. “Cas…”

“And I want to be allowed to love you, even though I’m not equipped for it. Even if I don’t get it right, I want to be allowed to try.”

Dean's chest feels too small as turns his body so they’re facing each other. He mirrors Cas’ hand, cups his jaw. “You’re doing fine,” he says, not that he knows any better how to love someone properly. “And I already told you this is your home for as long as you want it.”

“I’ll always want it, Dean.”

“Okay,” Dean says, soft, before he brings him in for a kiss. He’s the one that backs Cas up this time, not for sex. Just the kisses, for as long as he wants. Forever, if that’s really what Cas wants. Dean can adapt. It’s not like he was having sex on the regular anyway.  

Their arms and legs are tangled, trading lazy kisses and yeah, Dean can definitely do this on the regular. He moves his mouth along Cas’ jaw, fingers running up and down his arm. “This okay?” Just to be sure.

“Yes.” Cas arches his neck and lets Dean treat him to more kisses.

“If you don’t like something—”

“I’ll tell you.”

Dean nuzzles at his neck and Cas hums.

“We’ll figure out the rest?” he asks, because Dean didn’t actually answer him before.

He’s more concerned with the way Cas’ fingers are tracing patterns against his back but he agrees, “Yeah, Cas, we’ll figure it out.”

“And if I never find it anything but strange, and you feel like you need to find sex elsewhere—”

“Not happening.” Not if he’s going to come home to this. Even if Cas is okay with it, he can’t be that guy.

Cas pulls back to look at him and Dean wants to be annoyed. Is a little annoyed, if he’s honest.

“I’ll understand that it has no bearing on the way you feel about me,” Cas says and Dean frowns.

“No, I get that. You’re cool with me fucking anything that moves. But I’m not.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I’m not upset.”

Cas’ eyebrow takes exception to the lie. Dean makes a face.

“The bartender wanted me to go home with her last night, but I couldn’t even do that when I thought I didn’t have you to come home to. So I don’t think fucking someone when I do is going to work.”

Cas’ eyes narrow. “Did you want to go home with her?”

“Obviously not, or I would have.”

“But you thought about it?”

Dean shrugs a little. Watches Cas’ eyebrows draw together and feels the guilt squirm. Even though he didn’t do anything. He barely even considered it. “I thought we were done. I'm sorry,” he adds, hoping that will help. 

“I don’t think I want you to have sex with anyone else.” It’s sulky and dark and Dean has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning. Triumph is probably inappropriate. Too bad Dean doesn’t give a fuck.

“We’ll experiment,” Cas says firmly.

Dean leans over to kiss him. “It’s not an experiment. It’s just you and me.”

Keeping him in place with his hand at the back of Dean’s neck, Cas asks, “Do you want to start now?”

“I’m not twenty-five anymore, dude. But we can work on finding out what you like. No pressure.”

“I’d rather wait until you’re ready. How long will it take?”

“You’re making me feel old,” Dean grumbles. “Which is something, considering you’re about a trillion.”

“The universe is not even fourteen billion years old, Dean.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I offend you, old man?”

Cas eyes him, looking more amused than offended. “Didn’t you once call me a baby in a trenchoat?”

Dean smirks. “You’re a walking contradiction, Castiel.”

There’s no warning as Cas catches his wrist and pushes him onto his back. He looks surprised himself as Dean blinks up at him.

“I don’t know why I did that,” he says with his head tilted in confusion. Dean doesn’t either, but he doesn’t mind. He thinks this probably isn’t the best idea though, Cas sprawled out on top of them. He nudges at him with his hip when Cas just continues to study him.

“You wanna let me up?” he grunts.

“No.”

Smiling a little at his matter of fact tone, Dean tugs against his hold but it’s useless. Cas’ grip is like iron. With a calculating look, he takes Dean’s other wrist and brings both above his head. “I’m much stronger than you are.”

Dean can feel his heart beating faster at those words, even though Cas doesn’t mean them that way. He’s a little breathless when he says, “I know.”

Cas’ eyebrows come together and when he shifts, he can obviously feel Dean’s erection. He smiles. “You like that I’m stronger than you.”

“Sorry…”

“Don’t apologize. I enjoy watching you respond to me.”

“You do?”

“I enjoy watching everything you do.” He frowns a little. “Is that creepy?”

“Not like this,” Dean says with a grin and Cas smiles along with him.

His fingers shift against Dean’s wrists but he doesn’t let him go. “I’d like to try fucking you.”

Dean swallows. “It’s not that I don’t like the idea.” His dick loves the idea. He’s more than half hard, straining against the cage of Cas’ body; so much for needing time. “But if you didn’t like your dick in my mouth, I don’t think you’ll like it any better in my ass.”

“I’d like to try.”

Dean did agree to try. And it’s not like he has an objection to being fucked. He’s  _wanted_  to be fucked by Cas for years. He just doesn’t particularly want to be rejected in the middle of it.

“If it doesn’t work, it’s not a reflection on your skill,” Cas says, bending close to kiss him lightly.

“Yeah, I know.” He doesn’t really. It’s impossible not to pay a little attention to the jeering voices in his head. But this is Cas. And Dean trusts him. Even with this. Especially with this.

“Will you tell me what to do?” Cas asks between kisses. “I’ve done some research, but—”

“Research? You been thinking about this?”

“I thought it might be useful,” Cas tells him, obviously pleased with himself. And Dean is torn between laughing at the image of Cas in his trenchoat, pouring over The Joy of Gay Sex and giving in to the fond warmth pulling at his chest.

He gives into the warmth, kisses Cas’ cheek. “Lube first. I, uh, have some in my room if you want to—”

“I have some too,” Cas tells him as he leans over to take a tube from the drawer beside his bed, while Dean admires the stretch of his muscles. "We don't need condoms," Cas tells him. "I'm an angel," he adds when Dean only frowns in confusion. "But I have read some humans prefer them. Do you?"

“Uh, not if you don't want to," Dean says. "You really have been thinking about this.” Considering he didn't even know what condoms _were_ the first time he had sex.

Cas settles against him, with that same pleased little smile. And if he’s spent that much time thinking about fucking him, well, Dean thinks that’s gotta be worth something. It takes away some of the worry anyway.

“I asked Sam for advice on the lube.”

Dean grimaces, and not least because Cas has been talking to Sam about this? Jesus Fuck. “Little tip?” he grumbles. “Don’t talk about Sam when you’re in bed with me if you actually want this to work.”

“Of course, Dean.”

“He doesn’t need to know about any of this, okay?”

“He said the same.”

Dean rolls his eyes and puts his brother out of his mind. Flips the cap on the lube, still in Cas’ hand and says, “Squeeze a little onto my fingers. You wanna warm it up.” He demonstrates by working it between his fingers. “This is to open me up so—”

“I know what it’s for,” Cas interrupts, as impatient in this as anything else. “I told you, I researched.”

“Well, then, genius, go for it.” Dean spreads his legs, abandoning his plan to work himself open.  

“Are you always so bossy during sex?”

“Not if you'd rather be the bossy one,” Dean answers with an easy smile. In truth, his stomach is fluttering with nerves and he would much rather be doing something instead of talking but it’s kind of worth it when Cas eyes him speculatively.

“Bend your knees,” he says, and Dean obeys, drawing his feet up. It makes him feel exposed, makes the nervous edges sharper. He’s never felt like this in bed; not ever. Even when disappointment might have mattered, he was never worried he’d fuck up.

Warm fingers curl around his knee.

Dean lifts his head to find Cas watching him. He looks worried so Dean smiles, spreads his legs a little wider and drawls, “You just gonna sit there?”

Cas raises an eybrow and touches a finger to his hole and even though it’s not cold, Dean’s muscles jump. “I’m good,” he says quickly, watches Cas’ shoulders relax. Dean follows suit, lets Cas work him open. Encourages him when he’s ready for more, touches his own dick to show him how to offset the discomfort.

Cas learns quickly, pays attention to his breathing and before Dean even has to ask him, he’s stretching up to kiss him. And that’s good, Cas sucking on his tongue while he fucks him with his fingers. He could come just like this, with Cas’ weight pressing him down. He’s thought of this so many times, thought about Cas’ dick inside him even more.

Moving together, Dean’s fingers clawing the sheets as Cas fucks him from behind, his teeth scraping across Dean’s skin. Cas on his back, Dean riding him. Cas flipping them over and fucking him wildly, totally lost to it; not caring how sore Dean’s going to be.

“Tell me what you want,” Cas’ rough voice interrupts his fantasies and Dean shudders, realizes he’s been moaning Cas’ name. He’s fucking himself down on Cas’ fingers, totally lost to it.

He feels a stab of guilt for enjoying it so much, for forgetting this is just something Cas wanted to try. He focuses on Cas’ face and forces his body to still. To ignore the ache in his balls.

“You good?” he asks, and god, he sounds wrecked.

Cas’ thumb brushes his cheek, and when he smiles, it transforms his face. It makes Dean’s chest ache. He knows that look, knows he looks at Cas like that too. “I want to fuck you,” Cas tells him softly and somehow, the spell doesn’t break.

Dean nods wordlessly, feels the loss of Cas’ weight as he sits back and carefully pulls his fingers out. Dean’s too caught up in watching his face to notice any discomfort. Cas is watching him too as he moves over him and strokes himself several times before he lines up.

Dean tenses, involuntary, and Cas runs a hand down his chest and then slides in slowly, and Dean finds himself gripping Cas’ biceps. But when he unsticks his tongue, his voice still shakes as he asks, “Okay?”

“You don’t have to coddle me,” Cas tells him, sounding shaky himself. And Dean doesn’t know how to feel about this. This doesn’t feel right, both of them so tentative. This should be fun. Should be—

Cas bottoms out and Dean moans. Goddamn traitor body. But this is Cas inside him. He’s waited so fucking long. “Fuck,” he breathes as Cas pulls out a little, pushes right back in. “How…” Dean digs his fingers into Cas’ arm, pulls in a slow breath to steady himself. “How does it feel?”

“Still strange. I think it’s a bit like eating now. I can taste the molecules.”

Dean has no idea what the fuck that means, but it’s not exactly encouraging. “Cas, if you want to stop—”

“I don’t want to stop,” Cas tells him, but he stills his hips. “Please, Dean, let me fuck you.”

Biting at his lip, Dean nods, tries to relax back into the mattress. It’s awkward as hell, Cas having no idea about rhythm or finesse. And even though Dean’s got enough practical skill to make it work—hell, it’s been ages since he’s had bad sex—it’s impossible to get into it.

Who the hell has sex with someone who doesn’t like sex?

Cas is kissing him, distracted and not moving. Because he doesn’t even like the way sex feels and this is fucked up.

“Cas,” Dean pants, fingers clamping at Cas’ shoulder. “…  _wait_.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Dean pants, dropping his legs from where they’re locked around Cas’ waist. “It’s fine, but this isn’t gonna work.”

Cas props himself up to look at his face, but doesn’t pull out, and Dean’s not sure he really wants him to anyway. “Did I do something wrong?” he starts but Dean shakes his head.

“No, it’s just… I know you don’t like it and if you don’t like, I can’t—”

“I want to do this, Dean.”

“That’s not the point,” Dean says, shifting to try to dispel his agitation but it’s still not enough to move Cas away. “The person you’re having sex with is supposed to be enjoying it and you’re not—”

“Then, pretend I’m someone else,” Cas huffs.

Dean stares at him, the surprise turning quickly to anger. “What the hell, Cas? I don’t want to have sex with someone else. I want to have sex with you!”

“Then have sex with me,” Cas snaps right back. “And stop whining about it.”

They’re glaring at each other. Cas has his dick up Dean’s ass and they’re having an argument about whether or not Cas wants it there.

Dean has no idea why it hits him, but he starts laughing. Maybe it’s Cas’ furious eyebrows, or his dick, which is almost pressing against Dean’s prostrate. And Cas is glaring down at him, his balls tight against Dean’s ass.

“Dean?” Cas frowns at him and that only makes Dean laugh harder. “Why are you laughing?”

“I don’t know,” he can’t stop and it feels weird as fuck with Cas still inside him but what the hell else is new? It’s a metaphor for his life. “We’re having a fight about having sex,” he manages through the chuckles, “in the middle of having sex.”

“Well, you’re being difficult,” Cas grumbles at him.

That just sets Dean off again.

“ _Dean_.” Cas’ frown is a scowl, anger clearly about to make an entrance as he props himself up.

Grinning, Dean reaches for him. “C’mere.” He drags his confused angel in for a kiss. Even confused, Cas is still an enthusiastic kisser. He pulls out in his eagerness to get closer and Dean ignores the bright pain and just focuses on the kisses.

And when they taper off, they’re both smiling. Cas is still settled between Dean’s legs and Dean is starting to get hard again. He’s not bothered by it this time, not as much as before anyway. Cas looks so relaxed, it's impossible to be too worried about anything. Dean traces nonsense patterns against his back and Cas dips down to kiss the tattoo on Dean's chest.

“I was enjoying it,” he murmurs.

Dean slides his hand up to rub Cas’ hair. “You said it felt strange.”

“It did feel strange,” Cas tells him. “And I was enjoying it anyway.”

And somehow, that makes perfect sense. Dean nudges Cas’ head up. “Should we try again?”

“Only if you want to.”

“Yeah, Cas,” Dean breathes as he maneuvers him in for another kiss, “I want to.”

It’s still awkward in places, nowhere in the vicinity of the top ten of Dean’s best sexual experiences. But it doesn’t matter. Because it’s Cas and Cas loves him back.

They’ll figure it out eventually, Dean hopes. He’s pretty fucking thrilled when Cas tells him it's better than the blowjob was. And then Dean spends the rest of the time trying not to grin like an idiot, but Cas only smiles right along with him.

\--

They finally make it out of Cas’ room several hours later, both of them showered and dressed—and relaxed after too much time spent watching Cas’ current favorite Netflix pick. When Dean’s finally famished enough to unstick himself from Cas’ side.

Sam’s in the kitchen, working at his laptop and picking at a salad. He looks up when they come in, frowns in confusion between them. “Hey?”

“Hello, Sam,” Cas greets him as he lets his hand fall from where it’s been resting on Dean’s lower back and makes his way to the coffee pot, which has hopefully been freshly brewed.

Dean drops into one of the empty seats across from Sam, eyeing his salad. “I hope we have something other than rabbit food.”

“There’s leftover Chinese in the fridge,” Sam says slowly.

“I’ll get it,” Cas says. He puts the pot of coffee on the table as he walks by.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

Sam’s narrowed eyes immediately zero in on him, and Dean realizes what he said. Cas is looking back at him too. Dean smiles at him, and Cas’ face gets even softer somehow before he continues on his way to the fridge.

Dean flips over one of the mugs sitting on the table and starts pouring. “You got a case?” he asks, moving the cup to sit in the empty space beside his own and starts filling another.

Sam’s slow to answer. “I think so. Here.” He pushes the creamer over.

“Thanks. I owe you a punch in the nose.”

“What?”

“Dean didn’t have sex with a random woman,” Cas informs him as he takes his place beside Dean with chinese takeout cartons in hand. Dean rolls his eyes.

Sam looks between them, mystified. It takes a minute before the light bulb pings. “ _Oh_. Look, man,” he says, lowering his voice like there’s some way to keep a secret when it’s the three of them, “I wasn’t trying to—”

“Forget it, Sammy,” Dean says. He pours a fresh cup of coffee for his little brother as well. “Tell me about the case.”

Sam darts another glance between them before shrugging a little and turning his computer around so they can look at the screen. “Never seen anything like it, but three people are dead.”

Dean leans forward to peer at the screen and Cas mirrors him, hooking Dean’s ankle with his own as he does. Dean smiles to himself as he clicks through Sam’s notes. They still have some shit to sort out, but Cas is happy. Which means Dean is happy too.

As for his nosy brother… he’s pretty sure it just means Sam loves Cas too. What more can he ask for?

Satisfied, Dean bumps Cas’ knee beneath the table and sips his coffee while he listens to Sam rattle off his research.


End file.
